


In Which Sophie Accidentally Makes Howl Fight For Her Honor

by DuchessofGrandeour



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Arguing, Bar Fight, Brandy - Freeform, Butts in jeans!, Chivalry, Companionable Snark, Drunkenness, F/M, Fist Fights, Misunderstandings, Snark, Sort Of, a little bit of magic, pub
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25672051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuchessofGrandeour/pseuds/DuchessofGrandeour
Summary: In a pub in Wales, Sophie and Howl enjoy their favorite pastime: arguing. A bit of a misunderstanding on Sophie's part puts Howl in the middle of a fight he didn't ask for.
Relationships: Sophie Hatter/Howl Pendragon
Comments: 15
Kudos: 291





	In Which Sophie Accidentally Makes Howl Fight For Her Honor

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back baebyyyy!!!!
> 
> Feeling human enough to post here again, I hope you enjoy reading this fic as much as I did writing it! 
> 
> I have 81 messages in my inbox so I'll be working hard to keep up with everyone. I missed you, AO3 fam <3
> 
> Find me on Tumblr @saltycontessa

“Honestly Howl, another brandy?” Sophie asked, feeling quite exasperated. Every time they went to Wales Howl managed to spend at least one evening in a pub getting so completely drunk that he could barely stay upright. To make things worse, he absolutely refused to magick himself sober afterwards.

“You’ve had two as well!” Howl complained, slurring so badly it sounded as though his consonants would much rather be vowels.

Sophie shuddered. Her husband's whining was a bit too reminiscent of Twinkle.

“Yes, and my drinks weren’t preceded by four large beers," she said.

Howl wobbled a bit on the tall stool. He clumsily gripped the counter for balance.

“Sophie, they’re called pints here. Please just call them pints.”

“I’ll call them whatever I please and you know it’s not your place to tell me otherwise.”

As she sipped her brandy she fidgeted with the stiff waistband of her trousers. She couldn’t understand how anyone could wear this denim material day in and day out, no matter how nice it made one’s rear end look.

“Look, look, look,” Howl sloppily pressed a hand to Sophie’s shoulder. “You know more than anyone that words are important. Words have power.”

“You’re only worried that I’ll turn you sober,” Sophie chided, pushing his hand off of her shoulder.

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about! Listen here Mrs. Nose—"

“Oi,” came a man’s voice from behind Howl.

The voice was attached to a very large man who suddenly pressed his very large hand to Howl's shoulder. He was a good head taller than Howl and at twice as broad. His red, bulbous nose (which had obviously been broken on more than one occasion) stood out on his square face. And the scowl he wore. Well— Sophie didn’t think that even she could look that intimidating.

A few beats behind Sophie, Howl also turned to eyeball the very large man. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted before he found any semblance of words.

“Is this bloke bothering you?” The man asked, addressing Sophie.

“Yes!” Sophie gasped, relieved to have someone, anyone, acknowledge how tiresome her husband was.

“Sophie no, that’s not what that--” Howl began, but the man interrupted him again.

“You heard the lady,” he said, spinning Howl around to face him. “Why don’t you finish up your drink there and shove off, yeah?”

“No, you don’t understand—” Howl started.

“I think he’s right,” Sophie said, feeling much more sober than she would have liked at the moment. “It’s time to go.”

“You heard her,” the large man said, pushing Howl to his unsteady feet.

“Look here,” Howl said, once he’d found his balance. “She doesn’t understand—"

Sophie snorted.

“I understand plenty, young man.” She folded her arms across her chest.

“This is all a misunderstanding, truly,” Howl pleaded.

“I’m not being funny, you better be on your way now,” the large man said. He gave Howl a little shove in the direction of the door.

With his typical flair for the dramatic, Howl stumbled a great deal forward, lanky arms flailing, legs wobbling. He said some things in Welsh that Sophie recognized as less than polite. Suddenly, a blanket of hush draped across the pub.

“What did you just say?” The man’s eyes narrowed and his chest puffed out.

Howl stood tall, then wobbled a bit, throwing his arms out to steady himself. And suddenly his silver tongue was working. Sophie couldn’t completely understand him, but she knew that cocky little smirk. The one he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—hide. The one that meant he was trying to slither out of something.

The man—who was called Rhys as far as Sophie could gather—wasn’t moved by Howl’s words. His face reddened and his voice boomed as he gestured toward Sophie.

Sophie straightened her back while her cheeks grew hot. Very briefly, she worried Rhys' anger was directed at her, until Howl gestured to her as well.

Rhys threw up his hands and swore, clearly uninterested in what Howl had to say.

And it dawned on Sophie all at once that these two were going to get into a fight. A real honest fight. Over her? She still couldn’t puzzle out what this Rhys fellow was so angry about. Whatever it was, the situation looked more and more serious with each word. No matter how enthusiastically Howl played rugby, or how well he could fight witches and princes, he certainly couldn’t win a fight against a man twice his size. Not without magic.

And she realized all too late, poor Rhys wouldn’t stand a chance against Howl’s magic! And if Howl was compelled to fight...

“This better be a fair fight!” Sophie called out, willing her words to be true.

Howl swirled around to look at her. His mouth fell agape and he gestured incredulously while a whining noise escaped the back of his throat. Sophie realized it may have been better to talk the men out of a fight rather than encourage one where Howl couldn’t use magic. Or perhaps where Rhys could use magic? She wasn’t quite sure how things would work out. It was all a bit muddled from the brandy.

Sophie didn’t have to wait long to learn the results of her magic. Rhys reared his fist back to wallop Howl and stopped short of the back of his head. Flummoxed, Rhys turned Howl around again so the two men were face to face.

So he wouldn’t have fought fair after all. Sophie felt a bit smug now that her magic had clearly helped Howl. At the very least, she had a defense she could save for the inevitable argument she would have with her husband after this silly ordeal was over.

The fight turned out to be a bit strange. Both men punched and dodged and kicked in unnatural, halting sort of ways.

Of course the patrons in the pub cheered them on, shouting encouragements. And the barkeep was no better, watching the spectacle with folded arms and a half-formed grin.

Perhaps it was the brandy, but the whole absurd situation made Sophie feel a bit cheeky. She curled her fingers around her empty glass and whispered to it.

“Please be a good cup and fill up with more brandy.”

The glass responded quite wonderfully. Sophie drank quickly as she watched the scene. Rhys swinging his fists and kicking, Howl ducking and dodging. It took two more glasses of brandy for Sophie to decide she’d had enough.

“That's enough!” She called out, slamming her drink on the bar.

The fighting men both froze in place, Rhys grabbing a fistful of Howl’s hair and Howl biting Rhys’ burly forearm.

“I much prefer it when you fight with magic!” Sophie declared, leaping up from her stool. “Take me home, Howl.”

“What?” Rhys' confusion morphed to anger as he let go of Howl. “You— you’re with him?”

“I told you,” Howl cried out, sobered up from the brawl (or maybe from the magic. It was even harder to find the distinction at this point). “At least I tried to tell you! Sophie is my wife.”

A quiet stillness settled over the three. Rhys’ booming laughter cut through the tension.

“I guess that explains the chopsing!” Rhys concluded.

“You don’t know the half of it,” Howl muttered.

“What was that?” Sophie asked. Her attempt at sounding stern failed due to the loopy slur of her speech.

“Let me buy you two a drink to make up for it,” Rhys said, patting Howl on the back.

“I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard all evening,” Sophie concluded.

She attempted to sit down but missed the stool entirely.

"If I was still old, that fall may have killed me,” she said with a chuckle.

“Unfortunately, I think my wife’s had enough,” Howl said, sounding rather sullen as he stooped to lift Sophie from the ground.

“Another time then,” said Rhys.

Once they were outside the buzz of excitement died away and Sophie was left feeling incredibly tired.

“It’s too far to walk,” she said after they’d been walking for an eternity.

“Nonsense, it’s only a few blocks.”

“Ugh. Just leave me here.”

Sophie attempted to shrug Howl off of her. When that didn’t work she slipped down to the ground.

“Just let me rest for a bit,” she said, putting her head in her hands.

“Sophie, come on, it’s been a long night, I just want to go back to the hotel.”

“Then go!”

Howl let out a frustrated growl. He crouched down and grabbed Sophie, lifting her over his shoulder. She let out a squeal before absolute indignation washed over her.

“I can walk just fine on my own, you absolute terror!” Sophie cried, squirming against Howl’s grasp.

Their quarrel lasted another block, Howl carrying her all the while. They paused only when they came upon a pair of men going opposite of them.

“Oi,” one of them called out. “Are you harassing that woman?”

“As a matter of fact-” Sophie began, quite agitated with the situation.

“We’re married!” Howl interrupted, rather brusquely.

The men eyed Sophie curiously.

"Unfortunately, it's true," she said with a shrug and a sigh.

"Are you trying to get me killed?" Howl hissed after the men passed by. "This is why I never get to visit home!"

"Stuff your lies," Sophie said, feeling much more joyful than annoyed. "You don't come here because you're too frightened of your own sister! That's why we pay too much money for a hotel rather than sleep in her guest room."

Sophie couldn’t help but smile when Howl let out an appalled gasp. And a little chuckle escaped her when she realized that, draped over his shoulder this way, she had a lovely angle to view Howl's denim-clad rear end. She happily quarreled with him all the way back to the hotel.


End file.
